


Once Again

by Capucine



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Gen, Near Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 15:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10165949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: Jason is captured by the Joker. Things go a bit differently this time around.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's just a small oneshot.

He wasn’t terrified.

He wasn’t. At least, that was what Jason kept repeating to himself as the panic rose in his chest like ice water trying to take away his ability to breathe and reason. 

The cold crow bar was against his cheek as the madman continued on, ranting about how Jason had ‘ruined the joke’ by coming alive. It was hard to pay attention to the words, because again, panic. Crawling in his chest like he was already in the coffin.

His breaths were coming too fast over the tape covering his mouth. His body was both too sluggishly drugged and too tightly, painfully restrained for him to escape. And all other options refused to show themselves, hiding behind the icy panic.

Because this wasn’t something Jason could easily see a way out of. And because, obviously, this was how he _died_ , and that wasn’t something he had ever forgotten.

“Batsy will be so disappointed,” Joker intoned, leaning close enough that Jason could smell his rotten breath. “He really will. _Two_ funerals makes you a very fussy, expensive boy! He’ll think you didn’t like the first one.”

That broke the Joker into another round of shrieking laughter, and Jason couldn’t curl in on himself, as much as he wanted to. His body, his head and torso and everything, was completely open to attack. He had no way to defend when the crow bar would start falling, and that much was helping to bring on the panic. Because he knew it was coming. Because he’d been here before.

“Ah well, the old arm’s not as strong as it used to be, but try to pretend I’m hitting you as hard as last time, will you?”

It connected, shattering his ribs on his left side. He let out a cry, and in another situation, he might not’ve. He might have been able to hold it in. But not this time.

“Thank you so very much! Who says you’re the rude Robin? I barely feel any older than when I first beat you with a crowbar!” Joker’s pitch was so high it felt like it was cutting through his brain, and it was all Jason could do to not start struggling against the bonds he already knew he couldn’t break.

Batman wouldn’t come, and that knowledge was robbing him of the confidence he’d had when he was younger. When he hadn’t already died because Bruce didn’t make it in time. When he’d actually been close to the man.

There was no way that Bruce would save him this time. Again.

His breath was still too fast, and he could feel the heat and then cool of it through the duct tape as it passed over his lips. He could feel his eyes stinging, and he could only think, _Please, not like this._

It struck again, hitting his other side, making it even harder to breathe without agonizing pain. Which worked great with the panic still buzzing in his head.

And then the Joker picked up his tempo, barely giving a reprieve between each hit, barely leaving a distinction between each new pain. Jason was fighting to live at this point, not thinking much beyond ‘have to get free’ and ‘not again, not again.’

This was it. His eyes were spotting out in white and painful, crackling yellow, he was breathing faster than his body could really keep up with, he was moving beyond pain and into the desperate struggle to survive--

And then green.

A flash of glowing green blotted out his vision, and it took him a moment, as his entire body screamed at him, to realize the crowbar wasn’t hitting him anymore.

“If you wanted to take your revenge, you should have done it in Gotham,” he heard, a voice that left him almost ready to sob in relief.

The smoking heap that was the Joker was unimportant the moment his eyes took in Kori, eyes glowing with fury as she looked as though she might rip the Joker limb from limb. She settled for punching him, seemingly at least knocking him out, and then turned to Jason.

She carefully started removing the restraints, and especially the tape over his mouth. “You’re safe now,” she said. He must have flinched.

“Thank god, thank god, Kori, you have no idea--” Jason was trying to say, though it honestly sounded a lot more like babble.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Kori informed him, supporting his broken body as the restraints no longer held him up. “Nightwing and several of the others are on the way. He called me because he knew I’d get here first.”

And Jason could have sobbed. They were coming. They came. The raw emotion coursing through his body made his reaction stronger than he would have ever allowed otherwise, and he slumped against Starfire’s shoulder, not wanting her to see the tears.

The relief. The relief that he wasn’t dead, that it wasn’t happening again, and that they would come when he was in danger. It was stupid, but then, so was he. He felt vaguely like he was floating away, the only solid thing in the world right that second being Starfire.

He’d already passed out, or so he was told, by the time the rest of them showed up with emergency medical care.

But, as much as it revived some of the worst nightmares he’d had, and that was fucking awful, it also strengthened the ties he had with the others. With Nightwing, with Starfire, with several other heroes of around his generation.

Jason was nothing if not loyal to those who gave him a damn good reason to be, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not feeling well, so I wrote angst. Let me know if it's wonky.


End file.
